Me
by Amhta
Summary: Ginny wakes up in the middle of the night and has a rare heart-to-heart with Ron about Harry.


The sticky summer night enveloped Ginny in an  
uncomfortable blanket. She tossed and turned in her  
bed, desperatley trying to find that last cool spot on  
her sheet. Endlessly she turned over her pillow, and  
was grateful for those seconds of cool bliss it gave  
her before heating again. 

She turned on her side, eyes wide open and marveled at  
the fact that Hermione was asleep, and had been for  
hours, on the mattress on her floor.

Hermione and Harry had been staying at the Burrow for  
two weeks already, and they were looking forward to  
three more weeks together. They had all been surprised  
that Dumbledore had let Harry, especially, come for so  
long, but it wasn't without extra security. There were  
constantly at least three Order members at the house,  
and many of them would stay for hours improving and  
building new wards around the house.

Ginny groaned and sat up in exasperation, silentley  
cursing whoever thought of the Underage Magic law,  
which stopped her from solving her problems with a  
quick cooling charm. She swung her legs over the side  
of the bed and automatically sought her slippers. She  
quickly threw them off, for they wrapped her feet in  
even more unwanted heat, and winced as they just  
missed Hermione's sleeping form, 

She trod carefully through her darkened room, mindful  
to take small steps, lest she kick Hermione. She felt  
her foot hit the mattress, and leaped over it,  
stumbling when her foot snagged the sheet. Ginny  
looked quickly at Hermione, but breathed a sigh of  
relief- she hadn't noticed anything.

Ginny made her way slowly to the kitchen, intent on a  
cool glass of water- anything to relieve her from the  
heat. She creaked open her door, but no one had heard.  
She knew every step on the stairs that would signal to  
her mother that she was up, not that her mother would  
mind, of course, but was still careful to jump lightly  
over them.

The kitchen was only lit by the small ever-lasting  
candle her mother left burning every night. Ginny  
walked in quietly, heading for the cupboard to get a  
glass. When she finished filling it at the tap,  
letting the cool water run over her hands for a  
minute, she turned to sit at the table. She jumped  
slightly when she saw another figure already occupying  
the too-small table.

She couldn't immediatley see who it was at the table,  
other than it was male. He was slumped and appeared to  
have fallen asleep. There was even a half-full glass  
of water next to him.

She instantley thought who she would like it to be.  
She would have liked it to be Harry, waiting for her  
to come to him and solve all his problems. Perhaps  
they could start meeting every night. He would be able  
to see how great she really was, and maybe even  
eventually come to like her...

With these thoughts in mind she crossed the room and  
scaped a chair back loudly, and succeeded in shaking  
him from his stupor. He jerked his head up with a  
groggy, "Whaddya want?" and Ginny realized with a  
slight pang that his head wasn't covered in messy,  
black hair, and his eyes were not covered by old  
glasses. Instead, a shock of red hair suddenly came  
into the light, as his sleepy eyes sought her.

"Ginny?" Ron asked, rubbing his eyes and then taking a  
sip of water.

Ginny couldn't help but slump her shoulders slightly  
in disappointment. 

"Yeah, it's me." she answered dully.

"Don't try to sound too excited," he answered  
sarcastically. He rose to fill his glass with fresh  
water.

He returned to his place and sat quietly. Neither of  
them felt the need to talk, and they sat in  
companionable silence.

The minutes ticked on, counted only by the clock  
mounted above Ginny's head. She wanted to ask why he  
was down here this late, but was reluctant to put a  
stop to the relaxing silence.

"So, what are you doing down here?" she eventually  
asked.

His eyes turned to her, and he suddenly seemed older.  
He seemed to be judging her, deciding if he should lay  
his confidence with her. Eventually his eyes left hers  
and he squinted at a spot directly over her shoulder.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Nightmare's and all that,"  
he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"/Your/ nightmares? Or..." she couldn't help herself  
and left the question open for him.

"Oh no, not /mine/. No," he sighed, "Harry again."

She nodded slightly and looked down at her hands  
gripping her glass. She wondered why Harry's  
nightmares would cause him to have to leave the room,  
but decided not to ask. The minuted began to tick by,  
and more questions bubbled within her. She wanted to  
know all about Harry, everything, but didn't know how,  
or, indeed, what to ask, there was so much.

"How is he?" she asked quietly, some time later.

"Who, Harry?" again he sighed with so much sadness  
that she clenched her jaw, hating whoever did this to  
them.

"Well, if you ask him," Ron continued, "I'll bet  
anything he'll say, 'I'm fine, don't worry,' but I  
don't know. Hermione reckons he's not telling us  
something. She thinks its got something to do with the  
Department of Mysteries."

"What, other than Sir-,"

"Yes, of course other than /that," he cut her off  
harshly. "It's just that, he won't tell us /anything/  
anymore. He was in Dumbledore's office for so long  
after we returned. I just don't know." he slumped back  
in his chair and turned his eyes towards the ceiling.  
Ginny looked away quickly, blinking her eyes rather quickly.

Again, the silence descended upon them, and neither were quick to change it. Ginny glanced over at Ron as he played with his glass; teetering it on edge- capturing it fully with his hand just before it fell. Ginny sipped her water through pursed lips.

"Is there anything you can do? Anything /I/ could do?" she asked quietly.

He laughed quietly, shaking his head and smiling. "What could you do? Its seems we've tried everything."

"Everything?" she was staring at her own hands now, teetering the glass as he had. She missed the odd glance he gave her. /Surely not everything, she thought.

"He just needs... space," he said with slowly, "space... and, I don't know... something /else/. Something neither Hermione nor I could give him." He was looking at her hard, but she refused to meet his gaze.

She knew what he was getting at. She knew it, and she agreed. He needed someone to /talk/ to. Someone who would listen. Someone like...

/Me, she thought sadly.

Once again, neither of them spoke. They both sipped quietly, never meeting eachothers gaze, never sharing what they were thinking. /What could they do/

"I'm going back to bed," Ginny finally said, a bit gruffly. "See you in the moring, alright?"

"Alright," he answered.

She left him sitting alone, her empty glass still on the table, her chair not pushed in. As she trod slowly and quietly to her room, she glanced further up the stairs, at Ron's room. She heard a rustling from within and sighed.

/All he needs is... me./


End file.
